"And lo and behold—on the cover—Buck himself—Uncle Buck, Causton—you needn't say he isn't—as large as life and twice as beautiful—there!"
She held up the booklet in triumph.
But she drew it back again, bubbling with enjoyment. "Wait till I find the gem—the one about Piker," she cried.
Her fingers fluttered rapidly through the precious pennyworth in search of the "gem."
Louie's cup of tea had been at her lips, but not a drop spilt as she put it down again. If her colour changed at all it was only as that other pale fighter's had done whose story, Price One Penny, the unconscious Burnett Minor was rapturously searching.
"Here it is!" cried B. Minor, peremptorily extending her hand again. "Listen, everybody!—
"'But the redoubtable Buck refused to allow the wiper to be skied. He recked nothing of his bunged optic and the claret that flowed from his beezer. Game as a buck-ant he advanced for the twenty-eighth round. The Piker, whose bellows were touched——'"
But Louie had risen and walked to the child. She held out her hand.
"Let me look," she said.
B. Minor gave her a suspicious look, as if she feared she might be reft of her treasure. "You will give it me back?"